


Studio 3B

by Lunapup1



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, I'm so sorry, M/M, This Is A Disaster, please take this off my hands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:27:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunapup1/pseuds/Lunapup1
Summary: Byeongkwan was excited to move into his new studio to begin with. It was, without a doubt, the nicest he had ever rented; plus, the whole 'starting a new life in a new place' thing really appealed to him. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) his studio was sandwiched between a pair of circus performers and a pair of strippers, and they were all quick to decide that Byeongkwan was the newest addition to their friend group. Which would be fine, in theory, but his new friends consisted of human sunshine, Mom, Dad, and the hottest guy he'd ever met. Byeongkwan wasn't sure he'd survive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! it's a little bit of a disaster to begin with and it's completely unedited, so please point out any mistakes. if anyone is interested in beta-ing please hmu!

It was already midnight when Byeongkwan arrived at his new studio, but he was ready for a full night of moving his equipment in - excited, even. The studio was nicer than any other he’d ever rented; mirrors on all sides and rigging from the ceiling that would make it easy to hang up his punching bags. The Yelp reviews said that there were a few studios that played music a little too loudly, but the people there were nice and would dial it back if you asked. His first class started the next Saturday, so Byeongkwan had a full week to himself. Most of the time he loved being around people, but he was actually looking forward to his alone time. 

Byeongkwan popped the trunk. It probably would have been a good idea to bring along a friend to help carry things, but he had left all of his friends behind with the move. Even if he hadn’t, he would have been too stubborn to ask for help. Not because he didn’t think that he needed it, but because he wouldn’t want to disturb one of his friends so late at night. Byeongkwan was always designated driver and he knew what it was like to wake up to a ringing phone and a friend who needed help. He always went, but he was never happy about it. 

Byeongkwan reached out and grabbed his red punching bag, dragging it onto his shoulder. This was the heavier of the punching bags, 220 pounds, but it wasn’t all that bad for Byeongkwan since he worked out for a living. It was the awkward angle that made something in his shoulder pop. Byeongkwan dropped it to the ground with an embarrassingly high squeak. Great. Now he’d have to try to get a good hold on it from the pavement. 

“Do you need some help?” 

Byeongkwan turned so fast that his neck cracked. A man stood behind him, the streetlight casting his face into shadow but making his hair look like a halo. He must have seen Byeongkwan drop the punching bag, and even worse, he must have heard the squeak. Byeongkwan tried desperately to stop the blush that climbed up his neck. What an awful first impression. 

“No, but thanks,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He shook his head so that his bangs fell into his eyes, a little freaked out by the other man’s eye contact, and turned back to the punching bag. He squatted a little awkwardly and tried to scoop it into his arms bridal style. It didn’t work. Byeongkwan hoped that the other guy had left, because he would probably spend another twenty minutes trying to get the punching bag into his arms before giving up and waiting until morning. 

“Okay, I’m pretty sure you need my help,” the man said, his battered sneakers coming into view as he knelt on the other side of the punching bag. Byeongkwan cringed and sat back on his heels. The man hadn’t left, then. The new angle meant that the streetlight shone on the other man’s face, and of course the guy who saw Byeongkwan squeak like a baby chick was incredibly attractive. Definitely in the top ten of the “hot guys Byeongkwan has met” list. Maybe even top five. 

“I’ve got it,” Byeongkwan said, feeling his face get even redder. The other man laughed, showing off bright white teeth. Byeongkwan fought off the urge to cover his face, if only so that he wouldn’t have to be reminded that he already embarrassed himself in front of a model. Because what could this guy be other than a model?

“Well, I’m gonna help you, even though you’ve ‘got it,’” the man said, grinning. “I’m Junhee, by the way. Park Junhee.” 

“Bond, James Bond,” Byeongkwan muttered, not thinking. Junhee just laughed. 

“Donghun tells me that it isn’t cool, but I do it anyway. What’s your name?” Junhee never gave him a goddamn break with eye contact. He tried not to flinch. 

“I’m Byeongkwan,” he said, and Junhee’s eyes widened with recognition. 

“Kim Byeongkwan? The guy who’s renting out studio 3B?” 

He nodded, confused. “Yeah, that’s me. How did you know?”

“My friend and I rent out studio 3C! You probably saw his name on the forms. He’s Kim Seyoon. Oh, and you’ll love the guys over in 3A! Kang Yoochan and Lee Donghun. This is fantastic! Channie will be so jealous that I got to meet you first.” Junhee grinned, and Byeongkwan was nearly blinded by how white his teeth were. He just nodded dumbly. There were too many names and too many white teeth to pay attention to. 

“Now that we know we’re neighbors, you have to let me help you. Here, I’ll take this end.” Junhee bent down to grab one end, legs straight and back bent. Byeongkwan let out a squeak. 

“Don’t! Junhee, please, don’t pick it up like that. You’ll kill your back. Back straight, legs bent.” Byeongkwan scooted over to the other end to demonstrate, his awkwardness falling away. This was like teaching one of his self-defense classes - ‘don’t do this, you’ll get hurt.’ It was familiar enough that he almost forgot that he was talking to one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. “See? This way it’s all in the legs and not in your back. Jesus, Junhee, have you ever picked up anything in your life?” 

Junhee grinned. “I pick up plenty of cute guys,” he said with a wink, and just like that all of Byeongkwan’s confidence was stripped away. Not a straight guy, then. Byeongkwan wasn’t sure if he was elated or nervous. He decided on just plain afraid. 

Junhee followed his instructions, back straight and legs bent, lifting up half of the punching bag until he was standing. Byeongkwan hurried to pick up the other end so that poor Junhee didn’t have to hold it by himself. 

To Byeongkwan, it was the awkward shape of the punching bag that made it hard to hold, along with the shoulder that he had popped earlier (which was aching now, but only a little). To Junhee, every part was an ordeal. 

“Holy fuck, Byeongkwan,” Junhee panted as they finally reached the top of the first flight of stairs. He dropped his end of the punching bag to the ground. “I’m so fucking sweaty. How are you so pretty still, what the fuck.” 

“Uh, I’m not, uh. I’m not -” Byeongkwan stuttered, but Junhee flapped a hand at him. 

“Yes you are. That shouldn’t be difficult! I carry my own weight all the time! Do you know how many pull ups I can do? A fucking shit ton! What the fuck do you keep in that thing, bricks? How much does that shitbag weigh, a thousand pounds, right? At least.” 

Byeongkwan tried to focus on Junhee’s questions instead of the fact that he called him pretty. “It’s only 220 pounds,” he explained, and Junhee’s eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“220? Are you shitting me? What the fuck. I’m gonna do so much arm work this week. This is pathetic.” Junhee flopped down onto the floor. “Just give me a minute. I can do this.” Byeongkwan just nodded, hesitantly lowering himself to the floor as well. 

The door to the stairwell flew open, and Byeongkwan jumped so high that he nearly fell down the stairs. “Junhee, again? You know I teach a children’s class! You need to get that bad language under control or else I’ll beat you up! I know where your studio is!” 

Byeongkwan flinched, but Junhee just rolled his eyes. “I’ll be better about my ‘bad language’ the day you’re better at not blaring Kid’s Bop at seven in the morning! Fuck off, Debra!” 

“Oh, you little!” Debra cried, but she slammed her door shut all the same. Byeongkwan stared at Junhee with wide eyes. 

“It’s fine. She’s a bitch, and I never curse in front of the little kids.” 

“Junhee, that is such a lie. You curse extra by Debra’s studio on purpose.” 

Byeongkwan looked up from his spot on the floor. Standing at the top of the next flight of stairs was a man with dark hair and pouty lips. The man rolled his eyes, giving Junhee an unimpressed look.

“Donghun, don’t tell Byeongkwan that!” Junhee cried, sticking out his bottom lip. Byeongkwan was confused beyond words. Was this really the same Junhee that had just been screaming curse words at the top of his lungs? Somehow, the man up the stairs - Donghun, Junhee had said - was completely unmoved by Junhee’s display. 

“Byeongkwan? The guy moving in next door?” Donghun turned to face Byeongkwan, his face lighting up with a smile. “Hey, I’m Donghun! Sorry that you had to meet Junhee first. He’s a little bit of a disaster.” 

“Uh, hey,” said Byeongkwan, feeling flustered and completely out of his comfort zone because holy shit, Donghun was just as hot as Junhee. What the fuck. 

“Oh, don’t tell Byeongkwan that! I think he was starting to like me,” Junhee whined, scooting across the floor to cling to Byeongkwan’s arm. Byeongkwan stopped breathing. “No one here likes me, Donghun! Let me have this!” 

Donghun rolled his eyes again, looking tired more than anything. He started to walk down the stairs. “You know we like you, Junhee. Sometimes you’re just annoying. For instance, right now.” 

“Savage! Seyoon, get over here! Donghun is roasting Junhee again, and the new guy is here!” cried someone on the third floor. A head poked through the doorway to stare at the scene on the second floor landing. The man the voice was attached to had a mop of red hair and a smile like sunshine. Completely adorable. Not the same kind of attractive as Junhee or Donghun, but still. Byeongkwan wondered whether or not he was going to go into cardiac arrest. 

“Yoochan, don’t overwhelm him like this, he’s new,” Donghun said, tone stern, but the redhead - Yoochan - completely ignored him and bounced down the stairs with more energy than Byeongkwan remembered ever seeing, ever. Yoochan never seemed to stop smiling. 

“Byeongkwan, right? I’m Yoochan! Donghun and I rent out 3A. It’s so nice to meet you!” Yoochan shook his hand with far too much enthusiasm, but Byeongkwan couldn’t help but smile back at him. Trying to frown at Yoochan was like trying not to squint at the sun. Junhee flopped onto his back and covered his eyes, pouting. 

“See, Donghun, look what you’ve done! I was on the fast track to being his favorite and now look. Yoochan has him wrapped around his finger! You know I’m the least charming. This was my one chance, Donghun, my one chance!” 

“Stop being so melodramatic,” said Donghun sternly, but he sat next to Junhee on the floor and patted his hair. Byeongkwan could see Junhee leaning into the contact. 

“Sorry about them. I call them mom and dad. Donghun is mom, obviously. Junhee is the dad. They’re in love but neither of them like to talk about it.” Yoochan paused, chewing on his lip as he thought. “Well, nevermind. Junhee likes to talk about it. Donghun just doesn’t want to admit it at all.” 

Donghun looked up from Junhee, who had somehow moved so that his head was in Donghun’s lap. He sent a quick glare to Yoochan before turning to Byeongkwan with a desperate expression. “Please don’t call us mom and dad. And I’m definitely not in love with him. Ignore Yoochan.” 

“You’re not in love with me?” Junhee said, sounding absolutely devastated. Donghun looked torn as he switched from glaring at Yoochan to petting Junhee to sending Byeongkwan looks that seemed like cries for help. Byeongkwan couldn’t help but smile. He had only been here half an hour, but he already knew that he was going to love these guys. 

“You guys are the worst. Look at poor Byeongkwan! He’s on the floor! God, and to think all of you wanted to be his favorite. The real competition is for the ‘least bad’ position.” The last member of the friend group leaned against the doorframe that separated the stairwell from the third floor, a smirk on his lips. Byeongkwan thought he was going to pass out. This man, who must have been Seyoon, blew the others out of the water. How was it possible to have so many hot people in one place? Byeongkwan was reminded of a BLT; the bread on each side hot, and the tomato and lettuce cold in the middle. Byeongkwan was the tomato and lettuce, and Seyoon was obviously the bacon. Junhee could be his own slice of bread. Byeongkwan supposed that Donghun and Yoochan would have to be one slice of bread together, unless one wanted to be the mayonnaise. 

“Hey, pretty boy, snap out of it,” said Seyoon, and Byeongkwan realized with a start that while he had been wondering which boy would be the mayonnaise Seyoon had somehow made it down the stairs. 

“Huh, yeah?” Byeongkwan said. Goddamn it. He wasn’t the most eloquent man to start, but attractive men calling him pretty boy definitely made his language skills worse. 

Luckily, Seyoon only laughed. “I’m Seyoon. Here, let me get that for you.” He reached down, legs bent and back straight, and lifted the punching bag like it was no problem. It rested against his chest bridal style, the way Byeongkwan had been trying to hold it earlier. Byeongkwan had never wanted to be a punching bag so badly and he doubted that he ever would again. 

“Oh, his form is perfect! It’s not even a problem! Fuck you, Seyoon,” Junhee said from Donghun’s lap, and Yoochan giggled, which somehow made his face even brighter. Byeongkwan let his body drop to the floor, boneless. 

“What the fuck,” he said, and Donghun gave him a pained smile. 

“I’m sorry. Welcome to the third floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. yeah. this is a thing that's happening. seriously though please give me constructive criticism! this is the first fic i've published on ao3 so i'm a little nervous but i hope y'all enjoyed this mess. if you want you can come talk to me on tumblr @yyoochan :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late! i'm really busy with traveling this time of year. i'm also sorry that this is... well. it's a mess. i just don't wanna look at it anymore tonight (or ever) but i'll probably come fix it later??? idk man just... enjoy

“I can take this!” Yoochan announced, tugging at the shelving for the hand weights. Byeongkwan raised an eyebrow speculatively. None of the guys wanted to let Yoochan carry anything, but they were all busy upstairs, fussing over where Byeongkwan’s belongings should go. Well, Junhee was fussing. Donghun was pointing out why Junhee’s ideas were “really stupid and totally not useful,” and Seyoon was moving things back and forth and back again. Byeongkwan shrugged at Yoochan. 

“Okay, if you’re sure you can lift it,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. A peek into the trunk revealed that the only thing left was his personal duffel. He reached in and pulled it out, slinging it over one shoulder. He stepped back to wait for Yoochan. 

He didn’t expect Yoochan to drop the shelving, but he was certainly ready to take it if (when) Yoochan said he couldn’t carry it. That seemed to be completely unnecessary. Yoochan somehow managed to skip all the way from the car to the door of the complex, the shelving in his arms. Byeongkwan stared for a moment before closing the trunk with a shake of his head. Of course Yoochan could carry it. Gravity didn’t seem to apply to him. 

When Byeongkwan made it up to studio 3B, Yoochan had already deposited the shelving in a corner. Junhee was laying on the ground, pointing at various furniture. “No, Seyoon, over there,” he insisted, motioning towards a spot behind the door. Donghun made a face. 

“Junhee, if he puts it there no one will be able to open the door,” Donghun said, clearly reaching the end of his tether. Junhee only flapped a hand at him. 

“I think it’ll look nice there! Right, Byeongkwan?” he said, suddenly turning to look at Byeongkwan, who was setting his duffel down. He froze like a deer in headlights. 

“Uh, well… I would like to be able to open my door, if that’s possible,” he said, trying to avoid Junhee’s constant eye contact. Junhee let out a wail. 

“He’s just like you, Donghun! Channie, what do I do? What do I do?” Junhee rolled to cling to Yoochan’s ankle. Yoochan ignored it and grinned at Byeongkwan instead. 

“I promise he’s not normally like this. He just turns up his aegyo for Mom,” he explained, and Donghun sighed. 

“At least call me by my name,” he complained. Byeongkwan looked to Junhee, questioning. 

“I mean, Channie’s not wrong,” he said, shrugging, and Donghun just rolled his eyes. 

“Guys, where the fuck do you want this,” Seyoon said, and everyone jumped a little, having completely forgotten that he was there at all. He blew his bangs out of his eyes. Byeongkwan tried not to blush and failed horribly. When no one answered, he set it down against a wall and sat down next to it, glaring. “You’re all so useless.” 

Junhee laughed. “You love us though, right?” 

“No,” Seyoon said, and Junhee looked legitimately hurt. “I’m just here because you have blackmail.” 

“Seyoon, you don’t love us?” Yoochan asked, devastated, but somehow Seyoon just kept glaring. Byeongkwan would be on his knees asking for forgiveness. “But we don’t even have any blackmail on you!” 

“Yes we do,” Donghun said, looking altogether unaffected by the whole ordeal. “We’ve got all those pictures of him from his sophomore year of high school.” 

“Oh my god,” Junhee said, his hurt expression replaced with a wicked grin. “We do have those! He was so emo, Byeongkwan. It’s insane. Sometimes we think he still is, since he -” 

“Let’s not,” Seyoon said, his eyes wide and his hands out in a ‘stop’ motion. Byeongkwan tried to imagine him with an emo fringe and was surprised to find that it wasn’t all that difficult. 

“Actually, I can imagine him with a fringe,” Byeongkwan said, thoughtful, and Junhee burst into laughter on the floor. Seyoon turned bright red. 

“Shook,” Junhee wheezed, and Yoochan cackled. 

“Dad, I’m pretty sure that if you say ‘shook’ one more time Mom is going to leave you,” he said, and Junhee placed his hand to his chest in mock offense. 

“You wouldn’t do that, would you Hunnie?” Junhee said, looking immensely proud of himself. Yoochan’s laughter petered out, and Junhee frowned. “Get it? Hunnie like Donghun but also like honey?” 

Byeongkwan shook his head. “That’s such a stretch. It’s honey, not who-ney. Yoochan is right, you really are such a dad.” 

Junhee crossed his arms, but he looked more like he was preening than pouting. He probably was. 

Across the room, Donghun let out a pleased noise. “I found it! Byeongkwan, get over here, you have to see this. It’s even worse than you’re imagining.” 

Seyoon looked so horrified that it was comical. “No. Byeongkwan, I am begging you. It’s for your own safety. Those photos are possibly the worst in existence. They’re a complete waste of digital space and they will scar you forever. Byeongkwan, don’t -” 

But it was too late. Byeongkwan scooted up next to Donghun and peered down at the phone in front of him, squinting. “Why is your brightness so low?” he asked, and Donghun just sighed and swiped up the little menu to turn up the brightness. 

“It’s because he’s shady as fuck,” Seyoon accused, but Byeongkwan wasn’t listening. He was staring down at the image pulled up on Donghun’s phone, because what the fuck, it really was worse than he imagined. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered, and Donghun nodded smugly. In the picture, Seyoon’s eyes were done up with too much eyeliner and his fringe made him look like an emo phantom of the opera. Even the camera angle was laughable, held ridiculously high above Seyoon’s head as he looked up at it. Byeongkwan thought he was going to suffocate. Somehow the fact that Seyoon had once had a fashion sense this bad made him more attractive. Maybe Byeongkwan was just unreasonably attracted to glow ups. 

Junhee looked at Seyoon in a way that was somehow simultaneously prim and evil. “That’s what you get for saying you don’t love us,” he said, and Seyoon glared. 

“Well, now I really don’t.” 

“You guys are too mean to him. You know he’s sensitive about this and you know he thinks Byeongkwan is hot. You have to give him a break sometimes,” Yoochan said, shaking his head at his ‘parents’ disapprovingly. Byeongkwan nearly choked on his own spit. 

“He thinks I’m what now?” he said, voice cracking. Seyoon looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Exposed,” Junhee muttered, and Donghun scooted across the floor to smack him on the arm. 

“Oh, yikes,” said Yoochan, and then the studio was silent. 

“Well,” Seyoon said suddenly, his face split with a confident grin that made Byeongkwan wonder if he had ever looked nervous at all. “You are. Attractive, I mean.” 

Byeongkwan thought he was going to die. “Um. Thanks. A lot? I guess. You too. Uh.” 

Donghun clapped his hands, snapping Byeongkwan out of his daze. “Alright. Now that we’re past that, we should all leave poor Byeongkwan alone, yeah? The poor guy must be feeling overwhelmed.” Donghun stood, tugging at Junhee’s hand until he followed. He stopped at the door when he realized that both Yoochan and Seyoon were still sitting on the floor. 

“But, Mom,” Yoochan started, and Donghun sighed like he knew that he’d already lost. He probably did. “I wanted to see Kwannie punch something!” 

“You can’t just call him Kwannie! You’ve known him for what, two hours?” Donghun scolded, a stern look on his face, and it was such a motherly expression that Byeongkwan couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s fine, I can call him Channie. Right, Channie?” he asked, and Yoochan nodded like a bobblehead. 

“Yeah! See, Mom? He’s already part of the family!” Yoochan scooted over to wrap an arm around Byeongkwan, and Donghun just looked to the ceiling as if it had answers. “Just let us stay until he punches something, please!” 

Byeongkwan disentangled himself from Yoochan’s octopus limbs and walked over to the punching bag. Somehow Seyoon had been able to hook it to the ceiling without a problem. Byeongkwan was glad that he hadn’t tried to do it first, because he would have failed miserably, and no matter how much Donghun said that they were all incredibly awkward and odd Byeongkwan very much wanted to be a part of the friend group. Luckily Yoochan had already decided he was ‘part of the family,’ and that seemed to be half the battle. 

“You just want me to punch it?” Byeongkwan asked, wrapping his hands with protective tape. Yoochan nodded, excited. 

“Yeah! Or kick it or something, I don’t know,” he said, waving his arms and legs to mimic attacking the punching bag. Byeongkwan smiled. This was back in his comfort zone. Seyoon wasn’t being overly confident about calling him hot and Junhee wasn’t clinging to his legs to try to make Donghun jealous. This was just like teaching a class. 

He decided not to show off, afraid of making a mistake, and instead just went for some basic punches. Yoochan obviously didn’t know much about self defense anyway. Byeongkwan got in close to the bag and punched it four or five times, rapid-fire. Yoochan gasped and clapped behind him. 

“Beat up that punching bag, Kwannie! Wow, if I ever get robbed I know who to call.” Yoochan beamed, completely ignoring the scene behind him (it involved Donghun smacking Junhee’s arm for muttering ‘ghostbusters!’). “Now that you showed me, do you want to come see my new silks routine? I just finished it and it’s so pretty!” 

“No, Yoochan,” Donghun said sternly, but Byeongkwan had started nodding before Yoochan finished asking. Donghun didn’t even try to stop them as Yoochan whisked Byeongkwan out the door. 

“So, it’s pretty basic since I’m doing it with an intermediate team, but I’m still super proud of it! Have you ever seen a silks routine?” Yoochan babbled as he tugged Byeongkwan along by the wrist through the door marked 3A. “If you have, mine’s gonna be better! Just let me go change really quick!” Yoochan darted down the hall, presumably to where his room was. Byeongkwan sat down on the ottoman by the door and took in the apartment. 

There was a trapeze hanging to the left, not tall enough to throw people from but tall enough that you’d have to jump for the bar. Next to it hung a metal hoop wrapped in black tape. Byeongkwan didn’t know enough about the circus to know what one did in it, but it looked kind of like a hula hoop. The last thing in the main room was a bright pink fabric, which must have been the silks Yoochan had been talking about. Underneath everything was a thick blue mat. 

“I didn’t want the pink one,” Donghun said, making Byeongkwan jump. He hadn’t even noticed Donghun coming in. “Yoochan insisted.” 

“What’s that thing in the middle?” Byeongkwan asked. “That black hoop thing.” 

“It’s a lyra,” Donghun began, but then Yoochan came flying down the hall and Byeongkwan was choking on his own laughter. 

“Does he always wear that?” he said, trying to catch his breath. Donghun nodded tiredly. 

“Yeah. He… yeah.” 

Yoochan grinned, posing. He sported a pair of skintight black leggings and a black leotard, which probably would have been fine on its own (if not a little bizarre to Byeongkwan, who hadn’t been to a circus since he was four and had no idea what the costumes were like). Yoochan, though, had decided to top it all off with a pair of shimmering golden booty shorts and an unhealthy amount of body glitter. The hall he had come from was littered with little golden sparkles. 

“Channie, you’re gonna kill your poor mother,” Junhee said, sounding more amused than anything. He plopped down next to Donghun, inadvertently forcing Byeongkwan’s right buttcheek off the ottoman and squashing Donghun between them. Donghun scrunched his shoulders up and glared. “You know he hates the glitter.” 

Yoochan puffed out his cheeks in a pout. “I think glitter is fantastic! I look great, right, Kwannie?” Byeongkwan was too occupied with trying not to burst out laughing to do anything but nod. 

“Don’t encourage him,” Seyoon said from the doorway, and suddenly Byeongkwan was curious as to what he and Junhee had been doing before they showed up. It obviously wasn’t anything for him to worry about, though. It was none of his business, and Junhee was obviously hung up on Donghun anyway. “What did you call it, Donghun? ‘The herpes of craft supplies’? I’m pretty sure that’s a direct quote. You know, Byeongkwan, there was this time -” 

“Guys! Can I start the song?” Yoochan interrupted, waving one hand. In the other he held a cracked iPhone four with a cord dangling from the headphone jack. 

“Yes!” was the unanimous answer, so he tapped something on the screen and bounced over to the fabric. Byeongkwan was shocked when he somehow split it into two until he realized that the silk had been folded over where it met the ceiling to make two strands. 

Music came trickling out of the speakers, and Yoochan grinned at his makeshift audience before flipping upside down and wrapping one leg around the fabric. Byeongkwan let out a gasp. With pointed toes, Yoochan opened up to one side before reaching up and wrapping the other leg. As he climbed he left behind a constant trail of golden glitter, which reminded Byeongkwan of pixie dust. 

Yoochan tangled himself up in the fabrics, somehow looking graceful upside down with his legs and arms every which way. He paused at the top, all wrapped up, and grinned down at Byeongkwan. “Are you ready?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Byeongkwan said, and then Yoochan let go. 

Byeongkwan tried to shoot up from his seat, but Donghun stopped him with an arm to the chest. “Just watch,” he muttered, so Byeongkwan watched as Yoochan tumbled forward and back and forward again, stopping in an impossible position where his calves somehow touched his shoulders. 

“What the fuck,” Byeongkwan hissed, and Junhee leaned across Donghun’s lap to nod at him. 

“I have no idea how the fuck they do it,” he said. Donghun rolled his eyes and shoved Junhee out of his lap. 

Yoochan flowed through a few more poses, always effortlessly graceful, smiling brightly, and shedding glitter. When the music finally slowed to a stop, he slid down the fabrics to the ground and did a little curtsy. Byeongkwan clapped like a father at a ballet recital: completely confused as to what had just happened and also incredibly proud. 

“Did you like it?” Yoochan asked hopefully, and Byeongkwan shot up from the ottoman to wrap Yoochan up in his arms. 

“You were amazing!” he cried, and he didn’t miss the odd look Seyoon wore. 

“Well, next you have to watch Seyoon’s routine!” 

Byeongkwan frowned, confused. “Seyoon is in a circus too?”

“No, silly,” Yoochan laughed, “he’s a stripper! He has a new pole routine, you have to see it.” 

Over Yoochan’s shoulder, Byeongkwan grinned and quirked an eyebrow at Seyoon. It was a pretty funny joke. There was no way that Seyoon would ever be a stripper, ever. 

“I mean, if you want to see it,” Seyoon said, blushing a little, and Byeongkwan choked on his own spit. Yoochan squeaked in surprise and hit his back until he could breathe again. 

“Are you okay?” Yoochan asked, but Byeongkwan ignored him, seeing Seyoon through new eyes. 

“You mean you’re really a stripper?” he asked hoarsely, and Seyoon nodded. 

“Didn’t Junhee tell you? We work together at the club a couple blocks down.” 

Byeongkwan could only stare. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “I’m dead. I’m dreaming.” 

Yoochan pinched him, and Byeongkwan flinched so violently that he ended up a good three feet away. A glance at his shirt revealed that he was covered in gold glitter. “Sorry,” Yoochan said, entirely unapologetic. “Just checking. You’re awake and alive, FYI.” 

“Not for much longer,” Byeongkwan complained. Seyoon gave him another half smile, which Byeongkwan was sure stopped his heart. 

“What, I’ve got you that bad already?”

Byeongkwan squeaked and covered his face with his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the moves yoochan did were crochet climb and then a tick tock drop!! i was too lazy to make a full routine tho lol. thanks for all the comments and stuff on the last chapter!!!!! i love being validated lmao. this chapter is completely unedited so if you see mistakes pls tell me!! come talk to me on tumblr @yyoochan!


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